Tales from the Saga
by Panu
Summary: I always liked Romancing Saga 3. The game sports gorgeous graphics, great system and - in theory - a great plot and characters. The plot turned out to be too detached to be enjoyable, though, and the translation was awful.


The golden morning sun glinted on the long blonde hair of a tall, young man as he watched out of a high arched window. In the right light his hair looked as golden as the sunrise, and it was only pronounced by the colour of his clothing.

His long, red-embroidered satin jacket was deep purple and his tight breeches a matching dark blue. His black, knee-length riding boots shone with polish and on his arm he held a thin rider's cloak – this was purple like his jacket.

Rubbing his long, elegant chin, the young man turned from the window.

"Marcus?"

An old, hawk-like butler standing beside the tall double-doors of the room bowed deep.

"Milord?"

"Tell Catheryne to come here. And tell marshal Agrale we'll be leaving soon."

The balding manservant bowed once more and left. The lavishly dressed man walked across the spacious room to a wall where an assortment of weapons hung. Reaching his hand he pulled a long, narrow-bladed sword from its sheath and admired it for a moment. The black leather hilt was adorned with simple white diamonds. Taking the sheath with him as well – equally black leather studded with silver – the man walked next to a huge four-poster bed and stopped in front of a tall stand-mirror.

Slowly, as if savouring the action, the man slid the narrow blade into its scabbard. He tied the weapon to his side and lifted the purple cloak, draping it over his shoulders. From the mirror he saw a tall woman enter the room. She was wearing an elaborate gown that revealed her shoulders and a fair amount of cleavage. Her pale lavender hair was worked into an intricate tower with errant strands of hair resting on her bosom.

"Mikhail", she said and curtsied. Attaching a silver pin to keep his cloak in place Mikhail turned to her.

"Catheryne. Have the Shinon settlers departed already?"

The woman brushed arrogantly a lock of hair from her face and sniffed.

"Am I your scout now, Mikhail?" she asked coldly. Then, her voice softening: "As far as I can tell, yes. All except that man you took into the guard. Julian, I presume."

Mikhail nodded.

"What about Tornado?"

"Gone with the wind, it seems. These winds take him to Lance, or so I hear."

Mikhail smiled a thin smile.

"You always hear so much. Thank you", he said, turning back to the mirror. Catheryne glided over to the other side of the bed and took a seat, folding her hands neatly to her lap.

"There is a rebellious count in the north of Mules", Mikhail said after a while. "He hasn't brought up anything straightforward yet – he is still planning. I intend to bring a garrison there, commanded by Agrale, to quell his ambitions before they're set aflame. That way I can also observe and keep him in leash. He'll make a fine puppet.  I don't want another baron Godwin on my hands, as much as it tempts me to smother anarchy by force. The Shinon 'heroes' are already doing their job pretty well."

Catheryne frowned.

"You hired them as your spies?"

Mikhail shook his head.

"They're working as symbols, more like. They'll travel the world and spread my name – and this Julian stays here as a concrete example of a 'commoner risen to glory'. They appeal to folk. As well as the sudden appearance of Tornado. A pity he had to leave so quickly. Famous swordsmen are oft times worth a battalion."

Catheryne nodded.

"It's been no more than three months since I succeeded my father as a marquis of Loanne", Mikhail said after a brief moment of silence, fingering his sword-hilt. "And the more I think of it the more it seems to me that my father meant it to be this way."

Catheryne shifted on her chair.

"Do you mean the wars?"

Mikhail turned to her.

"Not just the wars and battles. Somehow it feels as if these obstacles – wars, plotting and deceit, they make sense, almost like a pattern. Franz always said to use the enemy to your advantage, and to turn the rival plots to your own. It feels as if these plots, troubles and wars were designed by him. As if he tried to acquire many enemies for me to dispose of."

Catheryne raised an eyebrow.

"Do you mean your father deliberately tried to hinder your rule?"

"In practice, yes. What I think he'd say is… they are a resource, and a test. Even from the grave my father continues to tutor and test me. He sometimes hinted of a great purpose, Franz, but I cannot fathom what that 'purpose' of his might be. Since the days of Ferdinand there have been no great schemes or events. I feel…" Mikhail stared deep into her eyes.

"I feel this might have something to do with the Holy King."

Catheryne gave a start.

"The Holy King? You cannot mean…"

"You have the Masquerade, correct? Guard it tighter than ever, Catheryne. I feel it may have an important role in the future. But now, please leave me. I need to ponder my strategy."

Catheryne rose and made to leave. On the door she hesitated.

"Mikhail…"

Mikhail turned to her.

"Take care of yourself."

Mikhail smiled at her – a warm smile, this time.

"It's not like I'm off to a real war, this time. I'll be back before the sunset. Meet me in the eastern garden then."

Catheryne smiled and left. Mikhail sighed. He was weary.


End file.
